


Skin Hunger

by imhereforit



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Masturbation, One Shot, Slow Burn, The word queer used not as a slur, Touch Starved Sansa, Touch-Starved, lots of feelings, so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 12:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imhereforit/pseuds/imhereforit
Summary: It was never that Sansa didn’t want to be touched. The opposite was true, in fact. She longed to feel the brush of fingers against her skin, the pressure of a body against her back while she slept, another’s fingers slipping between her own and holding her tight. But somehow, she had cut herself off from the touch of others.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Comments: 13
Kudos: 242





	Skin Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! A one shot for you all, totally unrelated to Shrike! This idea just came to me and I had to write it. So here’s 8,000 words of character exploration. 
> 
> I didn’t mark it for anything underage, because anything that happens is after Sansa is 18, but there is one kiss that happens when she’s 13. As a heads up.
> 
> Enjoy, friends!

It was never that Sansa didn’t want to be touched. The opposite was true, in fact. She longed to feel the brush of fingers against her skin, the pressure of a body against her back while she slept, another’s fingers slipping between her own and holding her tight. Many nights, she would lie awake in bed, her own fingertips brushing feather-light against her stomach, her ribs, her arms. The touch sent goosebumps rushing along her skin, a shiver down her spine. She loved it. But somehow, she had cut herself off from the touch of others.

Maybe it was growing up in the family that she did. They were good people, all of them. Her mother loved her, told her often, but didn’t hug her often, rarely held her hand once she was old enough to learn to stay close when crossing a parking lot. The only physical contact she had with her sister bordered on violent, wrestling for the tv remote, or pulling hair when one stole the other’s favorite shirt, or pushing and shoving for the front seat of the car. Her brothers ruffled her hair condescendingly, or pinched her arm when they were annoyed with her. Her father would give her a pat on the shoulder sometimes, but rarely wrapped her up in a bear hug like she had seen other fathers do with their daughters.

She didn’t blame them, really. It wasn’t their fault. Arya had turned out just fine. She couldn’t keep her hands off boys, that was for sure. And her brothers seemed to be just fine. It was just Sansa.

In grade school, she watched other girls her age with their friends, skipping through the playground hand in hand, or braiding each other’s hair, hugging each other every day when they saw each other. But Sansa didn’t have a friend like that. No one she could be close with.

Except for Jeyne.

Jeyne was her best friend from 5th grade to 8th grade. For a long time, they were best friends just like all the other best friends Sansa saw. They made friendship bracelets for each other at summer camp the summer before 6th grade. They braided each other’s hair on the bus to school every day of 7th grade.

And Sansa smiled more than she ever had while she was friends with Jeyne. She felt truly happy. For a while she thought something was wrong with her. She had never felt so light, so… sunny on the inside. But she was. She looked forward to school, to sharing a bed at their weekend sleepovers. To each little moment she had with Jeyne.

The summer between 8th grade and freshman year of high school, though, Sansa ruined it. She fucked it all up.

Her 8th grade year, she had started to feel differently about Jeyne. She wanted to spend every moment with her, even more than she had before then. She wanted to hold her hand when they walked in from the bus, even though they were “getting too old” for that (Jeyne’s words, not hers). When they had sleepovers, Sansa barely slept. Lying next to Jeyne made her feel… warm, in a way it never had before.

And then Sansa kissed her. At her 13th birthday party. She had invited Jeyne to stay over, and they had spent the night watching movies and throwing popcorn at each other, and eventually settling down on the air mattress Ned had set up in the den, so they wouldn’t keep Arya up in the room Sansa shared with her.

With the light of the tv in the background, Sansa hadn’t been able to take her eyes off Jeyne. The way her hair fell around her face. The bluish glow of the tv making her skin look soft and smooth, like a porcelain doll. And Sansa couldn’t seem to stop herself. When Jeyne looked over at her, a soft, “What?” on her lips, Sansa couldn’t help it. She leaned closer as Jeyne’s eyes got wider, and pressed her lips softly to Jeyne’s. It was barely a whisper of a touch, hardly a kiss at all. But it was enough for Jeyne to recoil.

The color instantly drained from Sansa’s face, and in her gut she knew she had ruined everything.

Jeyne didn’t run away like Sansa feared she might. But she did reach for the remote, switching off the tv, and rolled on her side, facing away from Sansa, pulling a blanket around herself tightly. Sansa knew then, that whatever friendship they had was over.

The next morning, Jeyne was quiet. Catelyn tried to ask her what was wrong, but she only said she’d had too much candy and popcorn the night before and she wasn’t feeling well.

Sansa and Jeyne didn’t speak for two weeks after she went home that morning. Finally, Sansa called Jeyne. But when Jeyne’s father called her to the phone, she had few words for Sansa.

“I’m so sorry, Jeyne,” Sans whispered into the phone. “I didn’t mean- I mean, I didn’t want-”

“Sansa,” Jeyne interrupted. “Sansa I don’t… I don’t like you that way. I mean, I don’t care if you’re… you know… like that. But I’m not. So. I think it would be best if maybe… we just didn’t hang out for a while.”

There was silence on the phone for a long time. Tears were falling down Sansa’s cheeks, and she felt a little like she couldn’t breathe. There were so many things she wanted to say. Please don’t leave me. It will never happen again. I’m so sorry I ruined everything. I think I love you.

But instead she just whispered, “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Goodbye, Sansa,” Jeyne mumbled. The line clicked and went silent. And Sansa cried.

She had never thought before that she might be… like that. That she might like girls instead of boys. She had spent so much time trying to figure out how to be friends with the other girls and get the other girls to like her, boys had never even crossed her mind. She couldn’t be… like that. Jeyne was wrong.

So she spent the rest of the summer deciding not to be “like that.” She refused to think about Jeyne. She pulled out her 8th grade yearbook, poring over each boy’s picture. She decided she would pick one, and she would date them, and she would never, ever be “like that.”

And that’s exactly how it went. For a while. She saw Joffrey Baratheon in her 2nd period history class on the first day of freshman year, and she decided he would be the one. She wondered if his hands would be as soft as Jeyne’s, if it would make her feel warm all over to sit next to him. She wondered if maybe he would make everything feel… right. He was a junior, more experienced, with a nice smile, she thought. Maybe he could help her feel normal for once.

After a year of dating, holding his hand, bearing the brunt of his irritation and even sometimes anger, sitting tucked under his arm at the movies, kissing him in the back seat of his dad’s Lexus, she didn’t feel a thing.

(She told herself not to compare every moment with him to Jeyne. Joffrey liked her, Joffrey wanted to kiss her. Jeyne had never wanted her like that. But at night, sometimes, when she was too tired to keep her mind under control, her thoughts would drift. To Jeyne’s hand in hers. To Jeyne’s fingers running through her hair. And she knew that Joffrey would never make her feel like that.)

So she broke up with him in the summer. And Joffrey told everyone he could that Sansa had given him a blowjob in the port-a-potty by the baseball fields behind the school. Which was a lie. One that Sansa never could shake, though.

She shut herself off even more from everyone around her. She didn’t have any friends at school. Jeyne sometimes gave her a sad smile if they passed each other in the halls, but they never spoke. She fought with her sister more than she ever had. She was utterly alone.

Perhaps that was why she decided to go to college at a school halfway across the country. To leave it all behind, yes. But maybe to feel like she had a reason for her loneliness. She could blame it on being far from home, having no friends at college with her.

She drove alone to Reach University in southern California from her parent’s home in Michigan. They had tried to get her to bring Bran or Rickon with her to help her unpack her things, but she refused. She wanted the time alone, she said. So she drove west on her own, taking a detour to see the Grand Canyon. As she stood at the edge of the massive canyon, she wondered if she would always feel alone. Like the lone eagle she watched fly overhead, maybe she was meant to be alone.

Maybe being alone was better. She didn’t have to worry about anyone but herself. She didn’t have to make anyone else happy. She wasn’t responsible for anyone else’s emotions. And she knew what her body wanted better than anyone else ever could, right? Her own hands would be better than another’s ever could be.

Right?

__________

Somehow, in the scramble to pack her things, to leave home, to make her cross country road trip, Sansa forgot to really think about the fact that she would be living in a whole dorm room full of girls. That she would have a roommate, a girl she didn’t know at all. That she’d have to share a bathroom, every day, with girls she didn’t know.

How was she going to hide then?

Sansa had refused to think about two things throughout highschool. First, she refused to think about what it meant that she had only ever really, truly wanted to kiss a girl. Never a boy. She didn’t think about the way that she blushed when a cute girl caught her eye and smiled at her. She wouldn’t entertain the idea that maybe it meant something. About who she was. What she wanted in life.

Second, she refused to think about the way her skin felt like it was on fire any time someone touched her. Even platonic touch. Especially platonic touch. When her mother’s hand would brush against her elbow when she passed her in the kitchen. Her father’s firm hand on her shoulder when she told her about her excellent test scores. When her sister would fall asleep with her head on Sansa’s shoulder when they watched tv together. It never failed to make her smile, make her feel warm and needed and alive and real.

She couldn’t think about it. She refused. If she thought about it, she’d have to see that she needed it. And if she needed, she’d have to ask for it. And if she asked, and was rejected… Jeyne’s face, soft in the glow of the television on her 13th birthday, the shock and the hint of disgust… it never left her mind.

So there she was, standing in the middle of her dorm room, half the room already filled with another student’s possessions, wondering how the fuck she was supposed to make it through four years of this.

She made herself a careful routine, the next three months. Up early, before anyone else. Shower and dress in the bathroom, being sure to avoid being in the shower at the same time as anyone else. (A difficult feat in a crowded dorm.) Go to breakfast, go to the library, go to her classes. Lunch, library, class, dinner, library. Never back to her room before midnight, by which time her roommate was asleep.

She avoided everyone except her professors, not making friends, intentionally not learning other student’s names. She built a wall around her heart. The only moments she ever let it slip were the late nights she would lie awake, running her fingertips gently over her own skin, that comforting, relaxing thing she’d been doing since she was young to make up for the hole she tried so hard to hide.

(She had googled it once. Touch starvation. Touch deprivation. Skin hunger. That’s what they called it. When one didn’t get enough physical contact with others. The only cure was to be physically affectionate with others. But Sansa couldn’t. Her family was miles away. After Joffrey, she never wanted another man to touch her, even totally platonically. And women… she was too scared of the other thing she was avoiding to ever be that close to a woman.)

She managed to keep up her routine all the way through her first semester. She didn’t know her roommates name, the names of any of the other girls on her floor, any of her classmates. She got all A’s, never missed a class, and made the honor roll.

Her mother’s hug when she met Sansa at the airport for winter break felt like a dream. Her arms around Sansa, holding her tight, was enough to make Sansa cry. “I just missed you a lot,” she told Catelyn. It had been a long time since Sansa had cried in front of her mother. 

Winter break was a dream. She watched holiday movies with Arya, baked sugar cookies with Bran and Rickon, even let Robb and Jon convince her to go sledding with them a few times. It was magical. Except for the few moments someone tried to ask her about her new college friends. She deflected, saying she had been too busy getting good grades to make friends.

“Don’t forget, Sans,” Ned said one night at dinner. “College is where you get to make lifelong friends. Don’t miss out on the opportunity.” He reached for her hand, squeezing and giving her a smile. While Sansa had no intention of making any friends, she knew that next time she came home, she’d have to pretend she had one friend, at least.

Somehow, winter break in Michigan left Sansa feeling warmer than an entire semester of SoCal sun had been able to make her. At the airport, she hugged each of her siblings and parents long and hard. It felt a little bit like refueling, gathering their love and warmth and joy around her, ready to make it last another semester.

__________

“Hey, you’re Sansa, right?”

The voice stopped Sansa in her tracks. How in the gods’ names did anyone on her dorm floor know her name? Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

“Uh, yeah?” she managed.

“Oh, cool, okay! I thought so. I don’t think I’ve really seen you around much.”

Whoever it was wasn’t going to be content to let Sansa walk away. She needed to turn around and face her. It was getting weird, standing there with her back to this stranger.

No, nope, that was a mistake. Definitely a mistake. She was… Gods, this stranger was too pretty, Sansa wished she had never seen her. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. Fuck, how embarrassing.

“Yeah, I- um, I spend most of my time in the library.” That definitely didn’t sound nerdy at all.

“Oh, cool. A smarty pants, eh?” The stranger smirked at her, and Sansa couldn’t stop staring. She was shorter than Sansa, with long brown hair, and soft brown eyes. Her lips looked soft, and her skin was pale and clear. She was wearing leggings and a loose tank top, leaving her lean but muscular arms on display.

Sansa shook her head. “Not really. I just like the company of books.” Sansa had no idea what she was saying. Words were flowing without her permission, and she wasn’t sure she knew how to stop them. This woman left her the opposite of speechless.

The woman laughed. It was a pretty laugh. “You’re funny, Sansa,” she said, her smirk never leaving her face. Sansa held her gaze, perhaps just a moment too long.

“Anyway, I’m not just stopping you in the hallway for fun,” the woman said. “I’m one of the RAs this semester. The other RA graduated early, so I’m taking over. I wanted to let you know that your roommate moved out. She dropped out. So. You’ve got your room to yourself this semester. You’ll probably get another one next semester, but we didn’t have anyone new moving onto our floor this semester, so you’re on your own. I hope you don’t mind.” Her smirk turned slightly conspiratorial. Even Sansa overheard other students complaining about sharing a room. It was quite a privilege to get lucky and not have one without having to pay a bunch of extra money to get a single room.

“Oh, well,” Sansa started. “Yeah, that’ll be- that’s nice.”

“Cool, well, let me know if you need any help moving your furniture or anything. You can set the room up however you want now. See you around, Sansa.” The woman turned away to walk back towards wherever she came from, but not without giving Sansa a wink.

“Wait!” Sansa’s own voice surprised herself, and not just because she was incredibly loud. Her RA almost jumped, and the shocked look on her face when she turned back was enough to make Sansa chuckle.

“I’m so sorry, that was unnecessarily loud. I come from a big family, and everyone tells us we’re way louder than we think we are and- anyway. I just, I didn’t catch your name.” Gods, Sansa was surprising herself left and right.

“Oh,” the other woman smiled. “Margaery. Margaery Tyrell.” She reached out her hand. Sansa took it without thinking, and the warmth the suffused her at the touch was enough to make her blush come back.

“Nice to meet you, Margaery,” Sansa mumbled. Her name felt almost good on her tongue.

“You too, Sansa.” And with that, Margaery turned and headed the other way. Sansa stood stock still, trying and failing not to watch her walk away. When Margaery reached her door near the end of the hall, she turned to see Sansa still watching her. Margaery winked again before stepping into her room and closing the door.

The sound of the door shutting shook Sansa out of her trance, and she practically ran back to her room, throwing herself on her bed.

“Fuck,” she mumbled into her pillow. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She had made it through a whole semester without really talking to anyone, and within her first two hours back she had talked to a girl. A cute girl. And she’d learned her name.

Sansa rolled onto her back and whispered her name to the ceiling. “Margaery.”

Her fingers felt like they were still tingling from where Margaery had grasped them. She brought them to her face, dragging them across her cheek. She felt the lingering warmth of her blush. She prayed to the old gods and the new that she wouldn’t have to see Margaery again. 

(Or maybe she prayed that she would.)

__________

Sansa started spending more time in her dorm room. Granted, the door was always shut, so no one knew any difference. But that way, she could do her homework and watch Netflix on the tv Jon had insisted on sending back with her. She also got a lot more sleep than she had last semester. Yes, she did still get up early to shower before anyone else was up, but at least she could go to bed earlier.

A knock at her door, the third week of the semester, made Sansa regret being in her door on that particular night. She pulled a pair of sweatpants on, paused Netflix, and trudged toward the door. Just as she opened the door, a fist came in contact with her forehead.

“What the fuck!” Sansa shouted, ducking and curling in on herself while she covered her face with her hands.

“Oh, fuck! I am so sorry! Shit!” Sasna recognized that voice. It was Margaery. Margaery had just punched her in the face.

“What the fuck, Tyrell?” Sansa whined. Gods, her head fucking hurt.

“I am so sorry, Sansa, I was trying to knock again right as you opened the door, and my reflexes are really slow, so I couldn’t stop when I realized what was about to happen. Gods, I am so sorry, Sansa.” Margaery’s hand was on her back then, Sansa’s bent double, elbows on her knees as she held her head.

There it was. That warmth again. Sansa could feel the warmth of Margaery’s hand through her shirt. It both calmed her and set her heart beating faster. This was exactly what she had been trying to avoid: seeing Margaery ever again.

“Are you okay?” Margaery was kneeling beside her. “Let me see.”

And Sansa couldn’t stop herself from obeying. She opened her eyes to see Margaery’s face, her eyes scanning Sansa’s face for any signs of injury.

“You got me right in the forehead, I think,” Sansa managed. She startled to giggle. This was truly ludicrous. Soon Margaery was laughing too, both girls sitting down on the floor when they couldn’t stay upright anymore.

Margaery sighed as their laughter died. “I’m really so sorry, Sansa.”

Sansa smiled up at her, realizing for the first time how close they were to each other. She smiled back. “It’s alright, really. It was an accident.”

“Still. I feel terrible.” Margaery reached her hand up to Sansa’s face, palm resting on her jaw, thumb caressing her cheek.

Sansa froze, looking at Margaery like a deer in the headlights. She felt a blush coming over her, all the way down her neck. She had never blushed so much in her life. She jumped up at that thought, clearly jarring Margaery a little.

“Anyway.” Sansa cleared her throat. “What’s up? Did you need something?”

“Oh, right,” Margaery said, standing and shaking her head. “I just came to tell you I baked some cookies and left them in the lounge, in case you wanted one. Late night study snack.”

“The lounge?” Sansa didn’t know anything about a lounge.

“Yeah, you know. The couches and tv right outside the fall? Where the elevator is? Where people are always hanging out watching movies?” Margaery was looking at her quizzically, head tilted to the side.

“Oh, right. Sure. I guess I must have missed it.”

“You’ve missed a few things since you got here, haven’t you?” Margaery’s smile turned soft, gentle. Like she could read the loneliness on Sasna’s face.

Sansa looked down at her hands. “Maybe.” It was all she could manage.

“Well, they’re out there if you want any. See you ‘round, Sansa.” Margaery’s fingers brushed Sansa’s arm as she walked past and out the door, pulling it closed behind her.

As soon as the door shut, Sansa ran over to the mirror on her wall to look at her forehead. Sure enough, there was a goose egg right in the middle, already red and swollen. Sansa groaned. It hurt. A lot. But there was a tiny, tiny part of her that thought maybe it was worth it. To see Margaery again. To feel her hand on her skin.

Starvation. That’s what they called this feeling. The hollowness that left Sansa sad and anxious and lonely. All because she was too scared to let a friend in again. In her heart she wanted to let go. She wanted to let someone in. Let them get close. She wanted to sit with someone and watch movies, or braid each other’s hair. (Maybe, she wanted those things with Margaery, specifically.)

Sansa groaned loudly and threw herself onto her bed. This was going to be a long semester.

__________

The second time Margaey came to her door, she managed not to punch Sansa in the face.

“One sec!” Sansa shouted when she heard the rap on her door. She cracked the door just a little first, then opened it fully when she saw Margaery’s smirk on the other side of the door. It shouldn’t have made Sansa’s heart flutter, but it did. 

“Hey, there,” Margaery said, smiling.

“Hi! Thanks for not punching me in the face again,” Sansa said.

“You’re welcome. It was a neat thing, though, I’ll have you know.”

“Well, thanks for restraining yourself.”

“Couldn’t ruin your pretty face.” Margaery winked, and Sansa blushed. It was becoming a pattern.

Sansa cleared her throat, hand going up to the back of her neck self-consciously. “What’s up?” she asked.

“I wanted to see if you wanted to watch a movie with me.”

Sansa choked on her own spit. “Um….” A vision of Margaery sitting next to her, close to her, on a couch in a dark room, flashed through her mind.

“Oh, not with just me! In the lounge! With some other girls! Not alone. Gods, that was the worst way to ask that, I’m sorry.” Margaery was blushing. Had Sansa ever seen her blush before?

“Oh, no it’s fine!” Sansa said, though for a moment it had not felt fine. “No, yeah, I’d love to.”

“Don’t you wanna know what movie it is before you say yes?”

“Oh, right, I guess, yeah. What movie?”

“Mean Girls.” Margaey looked hopeful. “Still a yes?”

“Yeah, of course.” Sansa didn’t care what the movie was going to be. All she cared about was that Margaey had thought to ask her.

What Sansa hadn’t expected was to find herself sitting on the floor, back against the couch that Margaery sat on, while Margaery ran her fingers through her hair. Margaery was lying with her legs over another girl’s lap; Dany, Margaery had called her. She was propped up on one elbow, while her other hand played with Sansa’s hair.

Sansa wasn’t even sure how it had started. She just knew that about ten minutes into the movie, she felt gentle fingers twisting a long strand of her hair and then letting it fall again, over and over. She had been too nervous to move, and by the time Regina George was writing her own name in the Burn Book, Margaery’s fingers were still tangled in her hair.

“Gods, your hair is so soft,” Margaery murmured very close to her ear. Sansa held back a shiver. Her fingers were just brushing along the nape of Sansa’s neck, soft and soothing against her skin. Sansa didn’t know what to make of any of it. Was this just girl stuff, like when she was in high school? Was Margaery like this with other girls? Or was there something else going on?

Whatever it was, Sansa couldn’t take it any longer.

“Shit!” Sansa all but shouted. 

Margaery sat up suddenly, hands leaving Sansa. “What? What’s wrong?” Her voice sounded a little frightened.

“I totally forgot I have a four-page paper due tomorrow! Fuck, I need to go! Sorry!” And with that she was off, practically running to her room. Her skin felt hot all over, sensitive and overstimulated. She tore off her shirt, slid into bed, and dragged her fingers over her heated abdomen in the way that normally would soothe her. But with the memory of Margaery’s fingers in her hair, on her neck, her own hands were only stoking the fire that was growing low in her gut.

She circled her right hip bone with one fingertip, then along the waistband of her leggings. And gods, she couldn’t stop her hand from slipping beneath them, into her panties, to the wet heat she knew was waiting. Shame burned hot on her cheeks, but that didn’t stop her from imaging Margaery’s fingers on her skin, Margaery’s touch replacing her own.

She came hard and fast after that. It had been a long time since she’d touched herself in that way, and she’d never let herself imagine someone else as she did. Definitely never a woman. Especially not a woman she knew.

But the way Margaery was touching her…

No, she couldn’t blame Margaery, she told herself. It was her choice. Girls touched each other like that all the time, and they didn’t run back to their rooms to get off about it. No, this was all Sansa. Her own craving for something she shouldn’t, couldn’t want.

In spite of herself, she fell asleep quickly. Content. Sated. Peaceful. For the first time in a long time.

_________

Gods help her, Margaery was trying to murder Sansa. Not literally, just with the constant touching. It seemed that Margaery was intent on making Sansa one of her friends. She stopped by her room around noon every day to walk with Sansa to lunch (how she had figured out Sansa’s class schedule well enough to know she would be in her room, Sansa had no idea). She made Sansa sit with her and Dany and a handful of other girls whose names Sansa couldn’t remember. Wouldn’t remember.

And she touched Sansa constantly. She looped her arm through Sansa’s when they walked to the cafeteria together. She bumped their knees together when they sat next to each other at meals. She rested her head on Sansa’s shoulder the few times that she had managed to coax Sansa into another movie night. They had only been friends a couple of weeks, and it was already wearing Sansa down.

The only good thing about spending more time with Margaery around other people was that she saw the way she interacted with other girls. She was as physically affectionate with them as she was with Sansa, holding their hands, touching their arms, giving hugs any time she parted ways with one of her friends.

A part of Sansa was comforted by this, knowing she wasn’t being treated differently. But the other part of her wanted to be treated differently. She wanted Margaery to see her differently. She wanted to be special to her. That train of thought was most often quickly derailed and shut down. Sansa refused to dwell on it, on what it might mean.

One Thursday afternoon, Sansa decided it was her turn to do something. To invite Margaery to spend time with her. Margaery was constantly inviting her to be part of something, and the last thing Sansa wanted was for Margaery to think she was only humoring her, that maybe she didn’t really care that much about spending time with her. So she decided to ask her to watch a movie with her. In the lounge, yes. But she didn’t plan to ask anyone else in particular. Maybe… Maybe Margaery would be okay with just the two of them spending time together.

When Sansa walked down the hall to Margaery’s room, she found the door already open. Margaery was leaning in close to her mirror, dragging lipstick across her bottom lip. She couldn’t help but stare, watching the deep red color cover her full lip. Sansa had to take a deep breath and close her eyes to calm herself.

When she opened them, she knocked lightly on the doorframe, and Margaery looked over to her.

“Oh, hey, Sansa! What’s up?” She turned fully to face her, and fuck she looked good. She wasn’t even really dressed up or anything. She wore a pair of tight, light wash blue jeans and a white t-shirt with a low neckline, leaving just a bit of her cleavage visible. The red lipstick she’d applied popped against the subdued colors, and Sansa had to stop herself from staring.

“Hi,” Sansa said, a little breathier than she would have liked to sound. “I just wanted to see if maybe you wanted to watch a movie with me in the lounge.”

“Ugh, Sans, I wish I could!” Margaery pouted, pushing her bottom lip out. “I”m actually about to head out to a meeting.”

“Right, no, that’s cool!” Sansa started to back up out of the doorway. The nickname was threatening to make her blush again.

Margaery reached for her hand, stopping her retreat. “I mean, you could come with, if you want. It’s the campus LGBTQ group. Guests are always welcome.” Margaery looked almost nervous, like she was scared of what Sansa might say.

Two thoughts flashed through Sansa’s mind like lightning. First, she absolutely could not go. She wasn’t like that. She didn’t need anyone thinking she was. Second, she absolutely could not say no. If she did, Margaery might think she was homophobic. And then she’d have to try to explain that she might be… like that, but was absolutely not ever, never going to think about it. And that was much worse than trying to get through one meeting.

“Yeah, sure!” Sansa said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than she felt. 

“Really? You’ll come with?” Margaery’s smile was a mile wide, and somehow managed to both still Sansa’s apprehension and set her heart fluttering for an entirely different reason.

“Sure, why not? I’d love to.”

__________

Sansa did not expect to feel so completely overwhelmed by the number of queer people around her. They were all shapes, sizes, and genders. When they all stood in a circle and introduced themselves, she heard more words for gender and sexual orientation than she had known existed. Margaery’s were “cis” and “bisexual.” Sansa only said her name when her turn came, passing to the next person. Thank the gods someone had said at the beginning that was an option.

After everyone was introduced, everyone scattered to get snacks, start playing one of the many games scattered at tables around the conference room they were meeting in, or gathering in small groups to chat.

Sansa didn’t realize until Margaery squeezed her hand that she must have grabbed Margaery’s hand some time during the introduction circle. She couldn’t bring herself to let go.

“Hey, let’s go talk to some of my friends, okay?” Margaery’s voice was soft, comforting, nothing like Sansa had expected. At least Margaery didn’t seem to think that Sansa hated queer people, what with her clear nervousness. She hoped it just seemed like social anxiety.

The next hour passed in a blur of anxiety. It seems like ages, and also like minutes, before Margaery was saying goodbye to her friends and leading Sansa by the hand back towards the dorm.

“That was a lot for you, wasn’t?” Margaery asked quietly when they got outside. She hadn’t dropped Sansa’s hand.

“Yeah, I-” Sansa didn’t know what to say. “Yeah, it was.”

“I get it. It’s okay. It can be overwhelming at first. Especially if you’re not used to it.”

“It was a lot of people. I wasn’t expecting so many people.” Sansa tried her best to keep her voice steady.

“I get it.” Margaery didn’t say more. Sansa didn’t offer more. She just kept on holding her hand. They held hands all the way to the front doors of the dorm building. They held hands in the elevator ride to the fourth floor. They held hands in hallway, through the lounge, to Sansa’s door.

“Would you…” Sansa started, and when she paused, Margaery didn’t push, just held her hand and waited, expression soft and patient.

Sansa swallowed and started again. “Would you maybe, just stay with me for a while? I don’t… I’d rather not be alone right now.”

Margaery’s smile felt like the warm sun on the first real spring day after a long winter. “Yeah, of course,” she said. “I know social anxiety makes stuff like that hard. My older brother has bad social anxiety, and it always takes him a little while to come down after social things like that.” Sansa smiled. She wished it was just social anxiety, but she didn’t know how to explain herself to Margaery.

She stayed quiet, and Margaery followed Sansa into her room. Sansa turned on Netflix, flipped to Gossip Girl, and settled onto her bed. Margaery sat down next to her. She looked a little unsure of herself, like she wasn’t sure what Sansa wanted from her.

So Sansa decided to do something bold. Without looking at Margaery, she laid down, pulling Margaery with her by the hand, letting Margaery fall into place behind her. She pulled Margaery’s arm around her waist, pressing her hand against her stomach. Sansa swore she heard Margaery’s breath catch, and she froze. But when Margaery settled her body against Sansa’s a moment later, Sansa guessed she must have imagined it.

They watch silently, for the most part, with only Margaery’s murmured commentary breaking the silence, often making Sansa giggle. Sansa was barely paying attention, though. She couldn’t shake her mind from fixating on a single thought. “You need to tell her,” the voice in her head said on repeat. It was making Sansa nearly sick, the idea of speaking it out loud. She didn’t even know what to say.

Her mind had a, well, a mind of its own, it seemed.

“I don’t have social anxiety,” she mumbled, nearly inaudibly, after two full episodes.

Margaery leaned up on her elbow, trying to look at Sansa, but Sansa wouldn’t meet her gaze. “What?” she asked. She didn’t sound upset, just confused.

“I don’t have social anxiety. At least, I don’t think I do. I’ve never really thought about it. I guess it’s possible, but… that’s not why I seemed so… unnerved.”

Sansa could feel Margaery stiffen behind her. “Do you feel uncomfortable around queer people, then?”

Sansa gasped, realizing how her confession could sound. She rolled onto her back so she was looking up at Margaery. “Oh, gods no! I don’t feel uncomfortable around them. Well, at least, not because I don’t like them, or I think it’s wrong or something.”

Margaery was sitting up, pulling away from Sansa, and Sansa could hear the way her breathing was speeding up. She reached out for her hand to stop her moving further away.

“I think I’m a lesbian!” she blurted out.

Margaery looked up at her suddenly, then, confusion clear on her face. Before Sansa could stop, words were spilling from her mouth, anything to keep Margaery from leaving.

“I don’t really know. I had one boyfriend in high school, and I didn’t really like him much at all. I never really liked boys. But in middle school, I was sort of in love with my best friend. I kissed her, and she didn’t like it. She told me she wasn’t ‘like that’ and then never really spoke to me again. And I didn’t want to be ‘like that’ either. Queer. Or whatever. So, I picked Joffrey, and I tried to like him. And I thought I did then, but I didn’t think about him like I thought about girls. And I thought about girls a lot. Embarrassingly a lot.”

Sansa felt her face flush, but she knew she couldn’t just stop. She looked down at her lap and pressed on.

“So I just… I refused to think about it. And I’d avoided thinking about it quite well, I think, for a long time. And then I got here. And now I’m just… surrounded by girls all the time. And it can be quite overwhelming. And most of them are presumably straight! So tonight, being around all those other… LGBTQ people… It made me face myself. Or start to. And I’ve honestly been in a bit of a panic about it since we got there.

“So. I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable by asking you to be here with me like this without telling you I’m a lesbian. I’ve tried my whole life not to make people uncomfortable by feeling this way, and I just hate that I might have made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Margaery.”

Sansa finally looked up at Margaery, and there was that sun-warm smile again. She was smiling at Sansa. And then suddenly she was wrapping Sansa up in her arms, basically tackling her back down onto the bed.

“Thank you for telling me all that, Sans,” Margaery breathed into her hair. “That was really, really brave.”

“You don’t feel uncomfortable that I asked you to essentially spoon me, even though I’m a lesbian?” Sansa felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes.

“Not at all,” Margaery promised. “I don’t mind it at all.”

“Well that’s good,” Sansa laughed, her voice thick with tears. “Because apparently having zero physical contact with another human isn’t really not good for a person? I had to google it, but apparently that’s a thing.”

“Yeah, touch starvation,” Maragery said. “It’s a real thing. Touch is more essential for some people than for others. I’m sure you’ve noticed it’s kind of a big deal for me.” Margaery squeezed Sansa’s hand in hers. “I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable….”

“No, you haven’t,” Sansa hurried to say. “It’s been good.”

Margaery laughed a little.

“Not in a weird way!” Sansa blushed, again. “Not like… in a sexual way.” Okay, maybe a little in a sexual way, she thought to herself. “It’s really just been nice to have someone here.”

“Well, just so you know, I’m always here for you.” Margaery pulled Sansa into another hug. Sansa pressed her face to Margaery’s shoulder, holding her close.

“Thanks, Marge,” she whispered, trying her hardest not to let a tear fall.

They settled back down on the bed, Sansa turning over to keep watching television. Margaery slipped her arm around her again pulling her closer. Sansa could feel all of her curves pressed to her back. She sighed at the way Margaery’s breath ghosted across her neck.

And she swore to herself there was nothing more to the moment than just two friends, doing what friends do. 

__________

Maybe cuddling like that had been something friend do, but the feelings that were rising up in Sansa’s chest every time she saw Margaery were definitely not purely friendly.

Sansa woke up the next morning with Margaery in her arms, nose pressed to her hair, the soft smell of roses and Margaery filling her senses. It took her a long moment to realize it was not a dream. And when she did, it took everything in her not to jump from the bed, waking Margaery in the process.

Instead, she held very, very still, then slipped her arm out from under Margaery’s head and carefully climbed from the bed. And run directly to the bathroom to shower. By the time she got back to her room, Margaery was already gone.

The next time they saw each other, at lunch in the cafeteria, neither girl mentioned that morning.

And neither of them mentioned it again for three weeks. They didn’t do much talking at all really, outside of discussion about classes or which movies to watch with the other girls in the lounge.

But Margaery’s gentle touches never stopped. She held Sansa’s hand sometimes while they watched movies. She pressed her knee against Sansa’s when they sat beside each other at meals. She rested her on Sansa’s shoulder when they sat on one of their beds, reading from their textbooks or studying for tests.

And Sansa only touched herself while thinking about Margaery once. Okay, it was only one night, but there were definitely multiple orgasms. Though Sansa did try very hard not to let Margaery’s name slip from her lips as she buried three fingers inside herself, fucking hard and fast until she came for the third time.

It didn’t help that Margaery had started looking at her differently. Just sometimes, not all the time. But sometimes she would get a look in her eye while she looked at Sansa that made Sansa blush all over. Like Margaery wanted to consume her. It made it incredibly difficult for Sansa not to spend another night fingering herself with Margaery on her mind.

__________

Sansa was nearly asleep, after having successfully not masturbated about Margaery once again, when a knock on her door made her jump. She looked at the alarm clock next to her bed. It was after midnight. No one knocked on her door after midnight. No one knocked on her door ever.

She flipped a lamp on and wrapped a robe around herself. Another knock. Sansa cracked the door open.

It was Margaery, and the sight of her took Sansa’s breath away. In the time that they’d been friends, Sansa had never seen Margaery in her pajamas. And she was very grateful, because she knew she would never be able to unsee what she was seeing in that moment.

Margaery was wearing a thin grey tank top, with no bra. Which was clear from the fact that Sansa could see her nipples through the fabric. Her arms were bare, and her skin looked unbearably soft. The blue shorts she wore were so short they could barely be called shorts.

Sansa held back a gasp, but swallowed hard at the sight of her.

“Can I come in?” Margaery’s voice was barely more than a whisper. Sansa couldn’t find her voice to reply, so she just stepped aside for Margaery to step inside. Margaery walked to the middle of the room, facing away from Sansa. Sansa pulled the door shut behind her, pulling her rob tighter around herself. She should have put a real shirt on instead of just pulling a robe on over her bare chest.

“What is it, Marge?” Sansa asked, concern in her voice. It was incredibly odd for Margaery to be coming into her room like this so late at night. “Is everything okay?”

Margaery took a deep breath, then turned to face her. “No, actually,” she said. “Everything is not okay.”

“What’s the matter? Did someone hurt you?” Sansa stepped close to Margaery, reaching a hand out to touch her arm.

Margaery’s eyes flicked down to Sansa’s hand, and when she met Sansa’s eyes again, there was a determination there that Sansa hadn’t seen before. Like she was steeling herself for something.

And suddenly, Margaery was reaching for her, hands on her cheeks, pulling her close, and pressing her lips to Sansa’s.

Sansa gasped, freezing, eyes open wide. Then Margaery’s lips were gone before Sansa could respond.

“Oh, fuck,” Margaery whispered, dropping her hands, face flushed red with embarrassment. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

Sansa didn’t know how else to shut her up other than with her lips. She stepped in close to Margaery and pressed their lips together again. It was Margaery’s turn to freeze. But it was only a moment before she was responding, sighing into the kiss. Her mouth moved against Sansa’s, and Sansa gasped when she felt Margaery’s tongue brush her lip.

She pulled back then, and realized her hands were tangled in Margaery’s hair.

“What in the hells, Margaery?” Sansa breathed, laughing.

“I should have told you,” Margaery said, looking up into Sansa’s eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t. I’ve tried to tell myself we’re just friends, and I can’t anymore.”

“Me too,” Sansa laughed. She kissed Margaery again, hard. “I can’t stop thinking about you either. I want you so bad. And I thought it was just normal friend feelings, but it’s not. I really like you, Margaery.”

Margaery smiled her sunshine-bright smile. “I like you, too. Gods, I like you so much.”

They didn’t talk much after that. Margaery pressed Sansa backwards, catching her lips in another kiss. Sansa slipped her tongue against Margaery’s lips, and Margaery opened for her gladly. Their tongues brushed and Sansa moaned, loud. Margaery pushed her back onto the bed, following her down, never breaking the kiss. She slipped her knee between Sansa’s legs, and Sansa gasped.

“Oh, fuck,” Sansa moaned. “Marge, I-” Margaery pressed her thigh against Sansa again. “Oh, fuck, I’veneverdonethisbefore,” she mumbled.

“I know, darling,” Margaery whispered in her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

__________

After, they fell asleep tangled together. When they woke the next morning, still a tangle of limbs, Sansa thought for a moment it was a dream again. But when she realized it wasn’t, this time she only snuggled closer against Margaery, pressed a kiss to her skin, and fell back asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and kudos make my day! Leave a comment if there’s any Sansaery one shots you’d like to see, and maybe if the muse hits, I’ll write it.
> 
> Love to you all!


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